A/N: Oneshot, manga-based though no real spoilers. An idea that I'd been playing with for a while that suddenly got focused, so I wrote this.

Anchor

He found himself standing upon nothing, surrounded by nothing but two huge doors.

No…not this dream again…

The nothing abruptly became Something, as a nearly-invisible figure talked to him. The details were hazy, as usual, but the part of his mind that was aware this was a dream already dreaded what he knew was coming next.

In a strange state of duality, he found himself simultaneously reliving the experience and a bystander knowing and fearing what he knew was to come. He tried to wake himself up, but the dream held him too strongly.

I can't stand it anymore.

The talking was over. He was stepping closer to the Doors, unable to change the sequence of events.

If I have to go through this again, I think I'll go crazy…!

He tried to fight again, but the doors were opening inexorably, as he knew they would, as they did almost every single night.

No, please no! Al…Al, help me!

The crack widened, black light spilling out, calling him, reaching for him –

No!

Ed jerked awake suddenly and curled up into a shaking ball, trying desperately to forget. His body was clammy with sweat, and his breath still came in short gasps and pants.

He knew the dream-memory was incomplete. No memory could possibly encompass even a tenth of the intensity of feeling he had experienced. Even so, that fuzzy carbon-copy was enough to awaken the old craving, and the desperate longing for completion filled him until it was all he could do not to destroy himself then and there.

The blankets were rucked up around his body so that his bed seemed almost shapeless in the darkness. Ed tugged his left foot impatiently out of the imprisoning bedclothes and ran his fingers – both flesh and metal – down the automail. Oh, he could still feel that phantom limb there, and remember the pain of having it torn away from him.

But it was worth it. Worth it if only for the tiny snatch of eternity it had gained him inside those Doors, immersed in everything that made up the world.

Tomorrow will be tough, he thought absently. Once again he would have to throw himself recklessly into every fight that came his way in an attempt to distract himself from the memories tugging at him.

Lifting both hands up to his face, he scrutinized the difference between the automail and the flesh. Each hand was perfect in its own way, he mused. He curled his flesh fingers, marveling once again at how long inside the Doors could be traded for each cell.

It wouldn't bother that much, having just four fingers, he thought, breath quickening. I can spare a finger. His mouth was dry. All I need is a moment there, just to remember what it was like.

Tentatively, he raised his hands. I won't sacrifice much.

In a sort of detached fascination he watched his hands inching closer together, his mind already jumping forward in expectation. Eternity, bliss, knowledge, oneness…Oh God, NO!

With a hiss of breath and a huge effort of will he snatched his hands apart and clenched them in the blanket, nearly sobbing in frustration.

Al. He had to stay for Al.

One finger would never be enough for him. If he gave in once, he would never be able to stand firm again; it would only be a matter of time before he surrendered once again to the lust. His body would be whittled down to nothing in no time at all.

He threw himself out of bed and knelt before his brother. The floor was cold to his bare knees, but he hardly noticed. "Al?" he whispered hoarsely.

Ed knew that Al knew about his sleepless nights, but by unspoken consensus Al would refrain from reacting to them unless Ed called for him. Ed liked to pretend Al didn't know how often his sleep was disturbed.

The red lights of Al's eyes brightened and focused on his older brother.

"Al, I'm sorry, I'm such a fuckup, I-" Blame me, Al; tell me you hate me so I have a reason to sacrifice myself.

"Shhhh, Brother," Al lay a steadying gauntlet on his brother's shoulder. "I already told you, didn't I? It's not your fault."

Ed's breath hitched, and his voice when he spoke was choked. Tell me you need me, Al! "But I was the one who-" If you don't need me, I have nothing to hold me back.

"It was my decision as much as yours. I won't have you blaming yourself, Brother," Al responded sternly.

A sudden jealousy rushed through Ed's veins, jealousy that his brother had none of these memories to taunt him at nights. For a moment he almost hated his brother for not giving in to his pleas, not letting him go. Don't you understand, Al? It's the perfect solution. I want to sacrifice myself for you. Let me lose myself for you!

But once again his love for his brother was enough to override the addiction. As long as Al was here anchoring him, he could not succumb to the siren call of the Doors. He would be here as long as Al needed him.

Someday, though, maybe Al would tell him what he was most afraid of, and most wanted to hear. He would learn that Al truly was angry, resentful, over the existence he was forced to endure in that metal shell, and he would then be able to fling himself headlong through those Doors with no regrets. Then—

Ed reined in his thoughts firmly and leaned his forehead against Al's breastplate. "Don't leave me, Al," he whispered, and felt one metal arm wrap around his waist.

"I'm here, Brother."

"Good." I will restore you, as fast as I can.

Slowly, day by day, the hold the Doors had on his soul was getting stronger; it was harder to resist, and his will was crumbling. How could he possibly continue living like this, knowing he would be tormented by this obsession for the rest of his life?

One day, I won't be able to refuse any longer. That is why I need to restore you quickly. Maybe when I can see your face, truly hold you and know you cannot possibly hate me – maybe then I will find the strength to say 'no'.

"You should sleep," Al told him. "I'm right here. I won't leave you."

Don't leave me. Don't let me doubt; I will not survive it.

Edward slept, and the Truth called his name, a phantom cry weaving through his dreams.

A/N: I thought about it quite a bit, and I don't see anything in Ed's personality being capable of giving in to something like physical lust. He's much too driven and focused for that. But lust for knowledge is something completely different, and for somebody like Ed, the Doors (as they appear in the manga, specifically) might not be a hell, but more of a paradise. And so this story was born.
I hope you enjoyed!